I'm actually in the other room at Larry's right now, and a party is about to start. Of course, I feel odd because I'm here for both the party and because I'm doing two loads of my laundry, which I expected to have done before the party. (Of course, it's nowhere near done. So, at some point during the party, I have to duck into the laundry room by the kitchen and fold underwear, hoping against hope that people aren't sneaking away to fuck in the laundry room. Luckily people haven't done that sort of thing at one of Larry's parties in years, though.)
I don't work again at the bookstore until 3 p.m. tomorrow, which is cool. If you take into consideration that I stopped working today at 4 p.m., that means I have 23 hours between shifts to do my laundry and unpack my apartment. It's almost like having a full day off. Except it's not.
Oh dear, that creepy man who always gets drunk, hits on me and then fights violently with his life partner just walked in for the party. He's seen me. I need to find a place to hide.
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